


Hellooo Nurse

by themthere_taterthings



Series: Hellooo Nurse! Verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt!Steve, M/M, Misunderstandings, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Sick!Tony, hurt!bucky, nurse!tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8334460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themthere_taterthings/pseuds/themthere_taterthings
Summary: Steve and Bucky are magnets for trouble and keep getting hurt in crazy ways. Tony is the ER nurse who is constantly treating them. One of them is always hitting on Tony, who's more than a little confused by the attention.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I can't write anything without Tony getting hurt or sick... oh well :)
> 
> Edit: Just creating a series to put this into. With a Part 2!!! I love everyone's support with this, all of your comments are lovely to read! Thank you!

It’s a hectic Friday night and Tony is stuck working a double shift. Not of his own volition, no, the blame is entirely on one Justin Hammer. Douchebag.  In other words, Tony’s been at the hospital for about 20 hours and awake and on his feet for way too long.

Friday night means drunks who’ve hurt themselves in the most exotic of ways. He’s constantly amazed at how many drunk people manage to impale themselves on things. Usually he keeps a mental tally and there’s even a hall of fame in the locker room. Number one on the list was the guy who tried to jump into his apartment’s swimming pool from his balcony and landed on the spiked metal fence. Tony still shudders every time he thinks about it.

It’s nearly three am when there’s a lull in the action. He’s taking advantage of the moment by leaning tiredly on the coffee machine, throwing down a hot cup of the disgusting swill it dispenses as fast as he can.

Natasha saunters over, still graceful and beautiful despite their evening full of spraying bodily fluids. They exchange nods as Natasha grabs her own cup of joe. They’ve been working together so long now they don’t need words.

Since he has the only good leaning space along the wall, she leans along his side, draping an arm and most of her weight over his shoulder.

“You smell good. How can you possibly smell good right now?” he asks, sticking his nose into her loose red locks. It’s sometimes nice that they’re about the same height.

She snorts elegantly. “I’m just amazing like that, Tony. I can’t believe you forgot. You, on the other hand,” she sticks her nose somewhere between his armpit and his neck and sniffs obnoxiously loud, “could totally do with some fresh deodorant.” Her nose scrunches in mock disgust.

He shrugs her off of him, “Wow, harsh. I thought we were friends, Romanov. In sickness and in health, through bad smells and good.” He crosses the empty hall to toss his empty cup in the trash can. One of the receptionists is motioning wildly at him with her hands. Frowning, he heads that way. “Incoming,” he passes to Natasha.

She frowns to match him. “So much for break,” she mutters chugging her own coffee, and they fall into step together toward the ambulance bay.

All sorts of people are funneling into the ER now, and that particular brand of chaos starts to take over. Tony loves it. It’s never boring and never the same thing twice. There are cops and people dressed for clubbing milling and bleeding all over the place. Mostly guys, but it looks like a few girls were involved; probably a fight. He and Natasha exchange glances and plans are instantly made to get together and laugh at the poorly fitting skimpy outfits, tottering high heels, and smeary party makeup that abounds.

He’s pointed toward Curtain 3, further from the chaos. Yanking aside the curtain, he’s surprised and completely unprepared for the two extremely good-looking guys inside. The one laying on the bed, propped up slightly is blonde and buff and beautiful. His tee probably two sizes too small for those biceps. Good lord, are those abs?

He rips his gaze back to his face, in time to see slightly dazed bright blues staring at him. There’s some blood along his hairline and bruising forming along his nose.

“Gentlemen,” he starts before it gets awkward, stepping closer and shutting the curtain behind him. “I’m Tony, your nurse this evening. Why don’t you tell me what’s hurting?” He grabs the blonde’s wrist to take his pulse, but his patient has other ideas, twisting their hands together until their fingers entwine.

The guy smiles dopily. It’s adorable. “Hi Tony. Nothing hurts now that you’re here.” If Tony were the sort to blush, he totally would but alas, this is not the first time a patient has hit on him after a dose of painkillers.

He raises his eyebrows questioningly at the very large leather clad man standing aggressively with arms crossed on the opposite side of the bed, who simply rolls his eyes in response. Yes, tall, dark and broody. Long hair; interesting and…badass.

Are these two together? Because wow, leave some good genes for the rest of the world.

“Don’t mind Steve, he took a couple hits to the face and whacked his head good on a tabletop. I’d guess concussion from how loopy he’s acting, but I’ll leave the diagnosis up to the expert,” he winks at Tony.

So, maybe they’re not together? They’re both definitely Tony’s type; for dating, friends with benefits, one night stands, _anything_.

“Ah, thanks for the consideration. I’ll just need to do a quick exam. Can you help me with your boyfriends’ hand?” Just casually throw it out there, no big deal.

“If you’re sure,” he teases stepping up to pull Steve’s hand away and mimic the hold himself.

Together, but flirty. Oh well, Tony still has his imagination to keep him company on lonely nights.

Tony proceeds to do his exam, checking breaths and heart rate and pulse, peering into the most gorgeous blue eyes with his ophthalmoscope and asking the appropriate questions.

“So tell me how this happened?” Sue him, he was curious.

“We were just out dancing and some kid started making trouble with this girl and all their friends jumped in. Of course, this guy just can’t walk away from a fight.” Dark and broody said fondly, one hand gently soothing the forearm he had trapped.

“Oh come on, Bucky. I had too,” Steve whined, an adorable pout painting his face. “Some of those kids probably weren’t old enough to be there.”

“Well that’s their bad decisions coming full circle, huh?”

Tony stood up, tossing his gloves and stretching his back unobtrusively. These two definitely sounded like a good time. Too bad he’d never get to see it in action.

 “Ok, so definitely a concussion. I’m going to go check with the EMTs for what painkillers they gave you and get some stitches started on your forehead. I’ll be right back.” He doesn’t even fully turn around before Steve starts yelling.  

“No! Don’t go,” Steve blurts, sitting up quickly in the bed, reaching for Tony. Tony sees him turn an impressive shade of printer paper white and knows that he can’t get the emesis basin up fast enough. Resigned to his fate, he lets one of the most attractive man he’s ever encountered vomit on him.

Once Steve’s finished, leaning back and panting slightly, he looks at Tony with tears in his eyes. “Oh no, I’m sorry, Tony. I’m so sorry!” It makes Tony’s chest tighten; someone so innocent and sweet should never sound that sad.  

Tony smiles, as bright and cheerful as he can manage, “Don’t you worry about it, hon. I’m just gonna clean up and I’ll be right back.” He leaves quickly, letting Bucky the broody boyfriend take over the comforting.

It didn’t matter how attractive the person, stomach acid, booze, and partially digested food will always smell rank.

“Clean up and a stitch kit in Curtain 3 please,” he barks at one of the nurse aids as he beelines for the locker room.

He’s not fast enough though, as Natasha pops up from out of nowhere pinching her nose. “Wow, you should have listened to me about the deodorant,” she manages to say with a straight face and waits until he’s past her before bursting into loud, evil cackling laughter.

It’s the fastest shower he’s ever taken and he comes back scowling because he’s in the emergency scrubs, which happen to be dark purple today. At least the curtain is clean and the stitch kit set up on the rolling tray when he steps back in.

“Alright, are we ready to take care of that cut?”

Steve nods, looking a good deal calmer than previously. Due to the location and angle, Tony has to stand extremely close to get to the cut on his patient’s forehead. He can feel Steve’s body heat and the man’s every breathe results in a small puff of warmth on his shoulder.

“I’m going to start with an injection of numbing agent, so it won’t hurt but it will be a little uncomfortable. You’ll be able to feel the pulling.” In his experience, it’s always best to explain.

He follows the line of the wound, placing his stitches close together and very small. It wouldn’t do to scar a face this perfectly pretty. It’s difficult because Steve’s head won’t stop moving.

“Hold still, please Steve,” he admonishes, only a little teasing.

“But you smell good… very flower-y. I like it.”

Tony laughs. He’s pretty sure he’d used Natasha’s shampoo as a body wash in his hurry to change.

“And I like to look at your eyes. They’re so… brown.” Steve is slurring his words now. “You’re just hot. God, you’re hot.” 

Tony glances up at Bucky, hoping that if a line had just been crossed he wouldn’t take it out on Tony. Bucky’s head is in his hands and his shoulders shake with laughter.

“Oh Stevie, I’m going to give you so much shit for this. You’ll never live it down.”

“You think he’s hot too, Buck. I know you.” Steve’s gaze never leaving Tony’s face.

“I’m sorry about this Tony. Steve’s normally much more polite in public,” Bucky sobers up. Geez, his blue-grey eyes are just as hauntingly memorable as Steve’s. These two are absolutely perfect together and it’s kind of creating a weird tension in his chest.

Like maybe he’s jealous or thinks it might be nice to be so comfortable in a relationship with someone that they can blatantly flirt with someone else and not be bothered. Tony’s never had anything even close to that.

“No problem, guys. Drugs make us all do strange things.” He finishes up, tying off the last stitch, applying some antibacterial gel, and covering it with a bandage. “You’re all set here, go see the receptionist for your discharge papers and come back if you have any more serious vomiting, lack of consciousness or persistent dizziness. Let’s see, and the stitches will dissolve on their own in about a week. Have a good morning fellas,” he turns tail and dashes for another curtain as fast as he can before Steve’s whining brings him running back to beg for scraps.

***

The teasing had finally subsided, after months of casual mentions of how good he smelled and his normal navy scrubs being replaced with the much hated emergency purple scrubs. The gossip mill around here was truly amazing.

Every nurse in the hospital had something to say about the two hotties who wouldn’t stop flirting with him, or the fact that one puked on him. Natasha was pretty much the only one who was still bringing it up and just to point out that he’d used her shampoo. Like it was his fault their lockers had morphed from two individual entities into one large free-for-all black hole type of thing that never contained anything useful and had a tendency to spew out Twinkies and other unhealthy cake-like snacks.

He almost wished for it back, though because this was probably the slowest shift he’d ever had and it was killing him. Apparently, it was killing the charge nurse as well (or maybe that was just his general twitchiness and tendency to take apart the office supplies when bored). So she gave him an unnecessarily dirty look and sent him up to the surgical wing to see if they needed help.

Surgical was the worst, in Tony’s opinion. There was a reason why he thrived in the chaos of the ER and it was partially due to the doctors on surgery. Snotty freaking pricks, the lot of them. He’d met maybe three that he could get along with and none of them worked at this hospital.

The first nurse he ran into was Darcy, looking dead on her feet, so he grabs the chart from her hands, looking it over. “What have you got, Darce? Surgical discharge? Easy peasy, why aren’t you in there yet?”

“Excuse me, Tony. I haven’t had lunch yet or coffee! It’s been hours! I’m not an over-caffeinated freak like you all the time,” She grouses, jumping around him in an attempt to snatch the chart back.

“Nope, can’t have that. You’re going for a break, at least twenty minutes and I’ll do your rounds.” Benefits of seniority; he could totally call things like that.

“But I wanted that patient!” She whines as he pushes her firmly toward the elevator. “He’s super freaking hot!”

“Then I’m saving you from death by embarrassment, you look like crap, Lewis!” He waves the chart in a mocking goodbye as the metal doors slide silently shut.

Perusing the chart, he heads room 304; surgical discharge for broken collarbone on left side. Counter indications: previous amputation at the shoulder. 6 titanium screws inserted, _yikes_. This guy was in for one hell of a recovery time.

He doesn’t bother knocking on the door; this soon after surgery hardly anyone woke up on their own. Only one bed in the room is occupied and the patient makes him stop to gape. No _freaking_ way.

It was tall, dark, and broody, looking a little worse for wear but still good enough to make Tony’s heart skip a beat and his breath catch.

Long brown hair, almost black, is falling out of a messy bun to fan across the pillow, tan skin, and a fantastic riff of dark scruff across his jaw. Tony allows himself a wistful moment of admiration before he acts like a professional again.

“Bucky…” He glances at the wristband for rest of the name. “Mr. Barnes, can you open your eyes for me?” Tony stands near the head of the bed, taking stock of vitals and recording them on the chart. “The sooner you wake up, the sooner you can get out of here.” He keeps talking, the usual rambling monologue, but he’s too busy adjusting the height of the mobile workstation to notice Bucky rousing.

“Tony?” B’s rasps, sounding grumbly yet pleased. As if he was genuinely delighted to see Tony again.

Tony turns, and has to resist the sudden urge to kiss his patient, because the look on his face is absolutely kiss-able. Bucky is staring at him in wonder, but still somewhat confused from the anesthesia, lips pouty and brows furrowed. It was freaking adorable.

“Hey, look who’s awake. How are you feeling?”

“Hmmmm… Are you really here right now?” A hand reaches out for Tony, softly grabbing at his scrub shirt. “Where’s the purple? You look good in purple.”

Tony snickers. These guys and their flirting. “Do I? I thought it was a little ostentatious.”

“Naw, suits you,” Bucky smiles, a little lopsided from the drugs but still very impressive. He tugs on Tony’s shirt, bringing him closer. Tony allows it, since there’s not much else for him to be doing right now. Well, there’s probably some charts or something equally dull, but he can give himself a few more minutes of this.

“Alright, let me check your blood pressure and look at your pupil dilation, and we’ll see about getting you discharged.” Tony pulls an ophthalmoscope out of the drawer and peers closely at Bucky’s, leaning over the bed. Bucky’s hand wanders down his side, eventually grasping his butt.

Tony jumps with a squeak, making Bucky laugh. There’s an additional laugh from the door and Steve walks in. Tony groans internally because Steve with a concussion was pretty darn attractive, but Steve in fit fighting condition is _irresistible_.

He’s got on a pair of dark khakis and a blue gingham button down that does _things_ to the blue of his eyes. It’s topped with a well-loved brown leather jacket with a pair of aviators tucked into his collar. It’s wholesome and a primal part of Tony wants to bite and pull and make him into a panting, moaning mess.

He keeps that to himself, though, and settles for a smile, hoping that the blush on his cheeks isn’t as bright as it is hot.

“Steve. Hi.” Awkward wave.

“Hi Tony. I see that Bucky and I have similar taste when we’re hurt. I hope you don’t mind,” Steve gestures at Tony’s backside where his boyfriend’s hand is still resting on the curve closest to his leg.

Tony chuckles in response, waving a hand nonchalantly through the air. “Not at all, keeps me on my toes.”

Steve walks to the opposite side of the bed, pushing stray hair away from Bucky’s face and planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. It’s a strange parody of their first encounter. Except, of course, for Bucky’s hand that is still occasionally squeezing and massaging Tony’s butt.

“Stevie. Stevie, you should feel this. It’s amaaaazing,” Bucky tries to grab Steve’s arm to pull it behind Tony but can’t because he only has one arm and it’s currently occupied.

Tony puts the blood pressure cuff on the arm, since it’s actually in a pretty good position for it and watches the gauge more intently than necessary. He’s got to admit that being groped by a very attractive man and flirted at by two is making him a little horny. Scrub pants aren’t the most conspicuous, so he’s really got to pull it together.

He’ll also admit to being extremely confused by all the flirting. These two are obviously together, but are ok with each other flirting with strangers? Either way, there’s no way he’s making a move; they were probably just being friendly and he refused to be a home wrecker.

“You’re right where you should be, Bucky. Do you want some orange juice or something before I go bring the doctor around to talk to you about post-op care?”

“Yeah, Tony,” Bucky held Tony’s hand in his and gazed at him solemnly. “Will you marry me?”

Tony burst out laughing, but quickly stifled it at Bucky’s hangdog expression. If he hadn’t already made a decision, he’d be falling for these two idiots so hard.

“Thanks, Bucky, but I think that’s a little fast for me. I like to be wined and dined, first,” he winked and pulled out of Bucky’s grasp.

“You’re right, Tony. Marriage may be moving a little fast, but how about the wining and dining? Care to do dinner?” Steve is standing much too close and blocking Tony’s path to the door. His eyes are predatory and dark. Tony is so out of his depth here, so he sidesteps Steve and resorts to jokes to cover his uncertainty.

“You just want a chance to catch up to Bucky, here. Sorry guys, but this booty is busy. I’ll just go find the doctor.” Tony gives his hips an exaggerated shake as he sashays out of the room.

At the charge desk, he gives his report and the chart to the RN before hightailing it to the actual surgical wing to find an OR that needs assistance. He’d rather be yelled at by a surgeon than risk running into the Wonder Twins again.

***

Tony is sitting at the check in desk, chugging coffee like his life depends on it. It had been one of those horrible scheduling flukes that happened once in a blue moon, but he was currently midway through hour twenty of his shift, with no end in sight. It wasn’t the first of such days this week, either. He’d managed to snag a bed in one of the on-call rooms once, but he wasn’t counting on it happening again; they were usually taken by the residents.

Some kind of bug had been making its way around the nursing circuit, leaving no one untouched. It wasn’t a matter of _if_ but _when_. It made it that much more difficult because everyone was on extended shifts while either recovering or coming down with it.

Pushing his thick framed black glasses up on top of his head he grinds his palms into his eyes. Weeks like this there was no use even trying to shove his contacts into his dried out, overworked eyes. Electronic charting was a blessing for ease of use, but at some point he started to curse technology as small fonts and bright screens sent his vision toppling from 20/20. The incessant pounding in his head wasn’t doing him any favors, either.  

“Hey, how you doing?” Natasha asks, coming around the desk to rub circles into his tense and aching neck. The groan he lets out is borderline obscene.

“Don’t stop, please. This shift is killing me.” It had taken a ridiculously long time for him and Natasha to be this close, but he would totally go crazy in this job without her friendship. It was hard to believe there was a point in his life when he couldn’t let other people touch him or hand him things without flinching.

“I spoke with Maria and she called Hammer in to relieve you. You’ve only got four hours left.”

“You are incredible, have I told you that lately? I worship the ground you walk on. Can I get you a human sacrifice or something?” He’s talking into his arms because the neck rubs have melted his body.

“I’ll take ice cream and a foot rub, next Thursday?” She kisses the top of his head and plops down into the other available rolly chair.

He nods, swiveling to face her, “Your place or mine?”

“Yours. Your bed is comfier,” She sets her legs in his lap and they just enjoy the peace while it lasts.

His bed is extremely comfy, and it’s depressing that his best friend is the only other person who knows it. God, he needs a life. A social life, a sex life, anything!

He closes his eyes and tips his head back toward the ceiling, stretching his neck side to side. If he wasn’t at the hospital so much maybe he’d have time to go meet someone. Natasha would probably go dancing with him if he wanted to get laid.  

Natasha gasps quietly, startling him into sitting up. Two blurry figures were standing at the desk. He pulls his glasses off of his head and stands, dropping Natasha’s legs gently. When the frames settle on his nose, his eyes widen.

Steve and Bucky are at the ER check-in desk, identical grins splitting their faces at his shock. 

“Hey Tony, fancy seeing you here,” Bucky leans on the counter in what is probably a very suave move.

Tony can’t quite wrap his mind around what he’s seeing and stands dumbfounded, mouth hanging open a bit until Natasha’s toe jabs in the butt. “What are you two doing here?”

Open mouth. Insert foot. _Ugh._

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Steve tried to do some fancy gymnastics all over the neighborhood.”

Steve jumps in with an indignant, “It’s called _parkour_ , Bucky, and you know you wanted to try it too. Don’t act like you’re so much cooler than me.” He bumps his shoulder against Bucky’s good-naturedly.

“Oookay, and?” He interrupts; that explained nothing.

“I think I broke something,” Steve says sheepishly, dropping his head slightly.

Tony sighs he can’t say he’s not happy to see them again. Their smiles and flirtations are nice, even if they don’t mean them. But it’s bittersweet; reminding him of just how empty his life (and bed) currently is. He grabs a clipboard with the usual inpatient paperwork and a pen and hands it to Bucky.

“Fill that out, I’m sure you know the drill. Natasha, we’ll be in Room 2,” he gestures for them to follow him.

The room is unoccupied, so Steve sits toward the head of the bed and Bucky perches next to him instead of in the visitor chair, eyes mostly on the clipboard. Tony grabs a wheeled exam stool for himself and sets it somewhere in between them.

“Hand, I’m guessing?” Steve’s been cradling his left arm close to his body the whole time. Steve nods, and holds it out when Tony makes grabby fingers at it. He absentmindedly tucks his glasses back up on his nose before leaning closer to the limb in question. He gently feels each finger and knuckle articulation, stopping immediately when Steve hisses in pain.

“I’m going to pull in a portable x-ray to show the doc but I’m pretty sure you’ve dislocated and probably fractured your thumb.” He moves to the computer to enter some stats and his use of the portable x-ray.

“I like your glasses, Tony,” Steve hazards, seeming somewhat thrown by Tony’s overt professionalism today.

“They suit you,” Bucky adds.

Tony chuckles mirthlessly. “Like my purple scrubs?”

Neither of them has mentioned Bucky’s previous grope session, but Tony can’t play the game today. Not when he’s so wrung out and worn out and feeling sorry for himself.

Tony leaves the room without another word, to grab the x-ray from storage and tells one of the PA’s that he’s going to do a cast for a phalangeal fracture. For things like this he has to have someone else verify his diagnosis.

The guys are both silent as the PA examines Steve’s hand and Tony sets up the x-ray. “Bucky can you step out for a moment, I don’t have enough gowning for us all,” he asks as he places the heavy blue apron over Steve’s head and ties it around his waist.

He’s uncomfortable being this close to the blonde. He can smell the slight tang of sweat from whatever the hell ‘parkour’ was, but also something warm and enticing. His body wanted even though his heart and his head were aching. At this point he can’t tell if it’s from his mood or whatever sickness he’s in the middle of catching.

The PA helps him with his apron before also stepping out of the room. For some reason the weight seems overwhelming, but he shakes his head and turns the machine on.

He starts talking through his actions, partially to keep Steve from starting a conversation and partially to distract himself. Reading the results is a different matter, though. He’s pulled the apron off, letting it drop to the floor. He should care about that, but he doesn’t.

His vision is swimming and he can’t remotely find the fracture on the x-ray screen. Pinching his nose, he tries to breath some clarity and pain relief into his body.

“Tony, are you ok? You look really pale,” Steve’s face is close, too close, all concern and pursed lips. He looks worried.

“I’m fine, let me get this out of our way so we can do your cast,” he stands and moves for the door. Too quickly, and all the blood rushes from his head. He staggers, holding onto the door handle to stay upright, vision going black. People are yelling, but his head is so heavy.

A beefy arm wraps around his chest, holding him upright against a solid, warm body. Tony drifts, letting this play out since he has no idea what’s going on.

When he finally opens his eyes again, it’s a blurry, bright world. He makes a confused, pained noise and feels his glasses being slid onto his face.

“Thanks.” The world is in focus, but making no more sense than before. He’s lying on the hospital bed, Bucky perched on the edge evidently having given him his glasses back. Steve is in one of the visitor chairs while Natasha is doing up a cast over his fractured thumb. It goes almost to his elbow; she’s mostly done, so he’s been asleep or unconscious for a little while.

“Tony, are you ok?” Bucky asks, sliding his hand through the hair over Tony’s forehead. It strikes him as overly intimate, what with his boyfriend less than 4 feet away.

Natasha doesn’t even look up, “You’re an idiot and you’re on mandatory leave for the next 3 days. Maria’s orders. She’s also sorry that no one noticed how crappy your schedule was; it’s not an excuse but with everyone getting sick…” She finally turns to look at him reproachfully. “You should have said something. We have temp agencies for a reason, Tony.”

He nods. “Sorry,” and let his eyes close again. The feel of Bucky’s hand in his hair lulling him back to sleep.

The room is dark when he wakes up again. He doesn’t feel any better, but no worse, either so that’s something. “Nat?” he asks.

Natasha doesn’t respond, but Steve is suddenly there, taking Tony’s hand and threading their fingers together.

“God, Tony, are you feeling ok? You really scared me earlier. You got so pale so fast and then you passed out and wouldn’t wake up again.” He was upset, Tony didn’t want him to be upset.

“Oh. Sorry,” he murmurs.

“Don’t apologize, Tony. You’re just sick and overworked. You should let us take you to dinner sometime. We’d love to take care of you for a change.” Tony stares at Bucky in confusion. What? Were they really trying to pull this joke again, now of all times?

Frowning, he pulls his hand free of Steve’s and sits up. It’s difficult, but he pushes away any help from these two accident prone morons who’ve invaded his life and won’t leave him alone.

He realizes he may have made a mistake as he lurches into the hallway, teetering dangerously and holding onto the wall for dear life. Bucky and Steve are following slowly and yelling at him to come back and sit down, but he just needs to find Natasha and get out of here. Get away.

Luckily, someone had been watching for him, and Jan is at his side within moments, swinging his arm over her shoulder and steadying the entire room.

“Sorry guys, but I’m taking Tony to the employees only area and then home.” He’s thankful that Jan doesn’t stop and doesn’t slow down as they hobble away.

Tony ignores everything until he’s seated on the strange couch in the locker room that he’d never understood the purpose of. Jan buzzes around, gathering his stuff while he thinks about her odd yellow scrubs with little cartoon bees on them.

“So I’m going to drive you home and when’s Natasha’s done with her shift she’s coming to stay with you, ok?” Jan is awesome; she should come to their ice cream movie nights. “Oh sweetie, that’s so nice of you, I’d love to come. I hope you feel better soon.”

Is he talking out loud? He just wants to sleep and to be left alone by good looking unavailable men.

“Let’s just get to the car and you can do whatever you want, Tony.” Tony can’t be sure that he even makes it to the car before he passes out.

***

“Those two want in your pants so bad, it’s not even funny.” Natasha’s voice sounds from about two inches behind his head. Apparently, Natasha is in his bed with him, one arm draped over his waist spooning him. If it didn’t feel so comforting and warm he’d object, but at the moment he can’t find it in him to do so.

“How did I get here?” He grumbles, noting that he’s still in scrubs, but the room is dark, lit only by the two candles he has along his TV stand. The coconut scent they release is gentle and reassuring.

“Jan. Teeny-tiny Jan lugged your very incoherent self up two flights of stairs as you were in and out of consciousness. Never long enough to hit the ground, though, so that’s a plus.” Natasha sounds like she’s internally battling between concern and amusement.

“Wow, I should send her something. Like a gift card to the good coffee cart by oncology. Oh, I invited her to our ice cream nights, hope you don’t mind.” He slowly flips over to burrow his face into Natasha’s neck, hugging her tightly. Her arms come up to wrap around his shoulders.

“It’s fine, I like Jan. She shut down your two loverboys with one sentence. It was kind of awesome. What’s up with them anyway? Are they hurting themselves just to get you to treat them?” She starts rubbing circles into his back and he sighs, unwilling to think about it.

“I don’t know, but they’ve both maybe asked me out? I can’t tell, because they’re definitely together. This sucks. If they weren’t so pretty and nice and amazing…” He’s whining, but he’s lonely and sick and good lord it’s been way too long since his last relationship or _anything_.

“Have you heard of polyamory? Maybe they are together but want to date you too.” Tony squints up at her, trying to see if she’s serious. Not that he’s ever been able to read her successfully.

“Nataaaashaaa! Don’t get my hopes up like that. Even if they did want a third, what would two guys like _that_ possibly want with someone like me?”

“You mean someone incredible, smart, and compassionate? Who has so far taken very good care of both of them despite how sick he was or how crappy the situation was? Tony, you underestimate how charming you are, just by being you. You draw people to you like moths to a flame. They just want a chance, and going by how they reacted when you passed out, I think they deserve one.”

“You said they just wanted in my pants,” he replies petulantly, a little embarrassed at Natasha’s words.

“I didn’t say they _only_ wanted in your pants. You can’t see the way they look at you, both of them. They care about you, Tony. You deserve more people who care about you, so next time they ask, please at least consider saying yes.”

Tony doesn’t quite believe her, but hey, odds of them coming in to the ER for the fourth time and asking him out have to be slim to none.

“Fine. Did you bring anything besides a pep talk? Like drugs or painkillers or something useful?” Natasha punches him lightly on the shoulder.

“Of course I did, idiot.”

***

Tony is still feeling the aftereffects of being sicker than a dog for an entire week. His nose won’t stop running, the draining fluids in his sinuses have him coughing every other second, and his body is just sore.

In Natasha’s totally un-asked for opinion, he’s a piping hot mess. At least his shifts have gone back to normal and he’s able to get some fairly regular shut-eye. As much as he can run on pure caffeine, he needs his beauty rest.

“Green scrubs, Tony? I thought we all agreed only on St. Paddy’s day?” Jan grabs his sides, tickling mercilessly until he can flail away.

“Jan! Cut it out,” he wants to say that he hasn’t exactly felt like hauling his laundry down to the basement level of his apartment building and he bought this lovely mint green set back in nursing school but he’s interrupted by a coughing fit.

“Aw, Tony I’m sorry. I thought you were over that,” Jan pulls out her version of puppy-dog eyes and Tony just waves her apology away.

“Ugh, if only. Hill has me wearing a mask every time I have to actually interact with a patient, which is, pretty darn frequent.” It’s awful and humid and yucky and he’s been gnawing on throat drops all day to keep it smelling fresh.

Jan giggles, he must be making a face. “Tony you crack me up! When are we doing a movie night? You owe me from fighting off those two guys when you were crazy sick.”

“I think Thursday? Nat and I are both off Friday, how about you?”

Jan doesn’t respond, staring off over his shoulder with an angry, incredulous expression. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

He turns, half expecting the Rock or Hank, her ex. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He repeats. “I’ll handle this, Jan.”

Storming over to the two men who’ve just walked into the ER, he stops, hands on hips, fuming. “What the hell have you done now? Can’t either of you go two freaking weeks without hurting yourselves?”

Steve and Bucky tower before him, but Tony refuses to back down. Steve has the grace to look chagrined, red cast still glaringly obvious on his arm, but Bucky has a shit-eating grin on his face that is instantly irritatig.

“I guess it’s your turn, huh, Bucky?” He shoves the inpatient clipboard at Steve’s torso roughly, holding it against him until the blonde takes it, eyes wide. Moving to stand directly in front of Bucky, he looks the taller man over with a harsh eye.

His hands grip Bucky’s face with a gentleness not reflected in his words, turning his face one way, then the other, watching his pupils. “What is it, concussion? Kitchen explosion? Skydiving accident?” He releases Bucky when it becomes obvious that there’s nothing wrong.

“You guys need some new hobbies, you know that? Like knitting or bingo or I don’t even know!” He moves on to Steve, but his elbows are grasped firmly by both of Bucky’s hands.

“Tony, Tony, calm down. We’re fine, both of us. We’re just here to see you.” Bucky’s reassuring him, hands rubbing up and down his forearms from elbow to wrist.

Steve moves so he’s behind Tony, a warm hand settling on the small of his back. “Is there someplace more private we can go to chat?”

“Uh… yeah. Room 4’s open,” Tony is confused and he’s sure it’s not just residual cold meds. These two were supposed to be done playing this joke on him. They were supposed to leave and never come back and live happily ever after together. Without him.

Since he’s not sure where this is going, he sits on the bed and to his surprise, Bucky sits next to him close enough that their thighs are pressed together. Steve sets the clipboard down on the counter by the sink and pulls the exam stool close so he’s almost between Tony’s knees.

“You had us pretty worried that last time we were here, are you feeling better now? None of your coworkers would tell us if you were ok,” Steve looks genuinely concerned, gazing up at Tony with those big beautiful blue eyes.

Tony looks away, loneliness pinching at his chest. This unwarranted concern was doing him no favors in the long run. “I’m fine. I’m a nurse. All my friends work here, of course I know how to take care of myself.” He always has. Tony against the world.

“We know you do, doll, but we were worried anyway,” Bucky takes one of Tony’s hands between his own. “And you didn’t answer my question. It’s kinda been killing me not knowing the answer.”

“You mean that dinner invitation?” They both nod and he exhales in exasperation. “Would you guys quit it with that joke already?! I get it, you’re both flirty and attractive and obviously out of my league. There’s no reason to keep flaunting it about in my face, especially where I work.” He stands, more than done with this conversation. His throat is tight with the threat of impending tears, he hates being torn down like this. He keeps his eyes on the aged, white linoleum floor so they can’t see how upset he is.

“Whoa, whoa, Tony. This is no joke, we’re serious. I like you, Steve likes you, and we’d truly like to take you to dinner,” Bucky is standing as well, blocking the door.

“I’m sorry if we made you think otherwise, Tony, but you’ve been nothing but great to us and we’d like to repay you. Get to know you better.” Steve’s much tenderer in his approach.

Tony can’t believe it. Natasha was right. He shouldn’t have doubted, she’s always right. They did care about him. That was just crazy. They were crazy.

“Tony,” Steve hooks a finger underneath Tony’s chin, tipping it up until he had no choice but to meet his gaze. He crumbles at the sight of the few tears that Tony couldn’t contain any longer. “Oh, Tony, come here.”

He’s pulled into a hug that was so warm and comforting, the rest of his tears come spewing out uncontrollably and his own arms are wrapped around Steve’s trim torso squeezing tightly.

It takes a few minutes, but they just let him sob, talking quietly to him about who knows what. Consoling him, and it’s nice. Tony hasn’t felt this safe in a long time. When he starts to pull away, Steve lets him go, but keeps a hand on him. Instead of being suffocating, it’s encouraging.

“That’s it, we’re taking you to dinner just to prove we mean it,” Bucky says, smiling almost shyly.

Tony laughs in response, wiping at his wet cheeks with his shirtsleeves. He nods, not trusting himself to speak yet, but all of his doubts are slowly melting away.

“Then it’s a date,” Bucky’s grin is luminous, Steve’s equally so and Tony can’t believe it’s all for him.  


End file.
